“I miss you honey. I….I just miss you. Your smell, your warmth, your touch. That face. Oh how I miss that face.”
I was cleaning out my emails and found some old ones from A. I thought I’d deleted them all, but I guess not. I wish I wasn’t so hung up on him. I really do. I don’t know what’s preventing me from moving on. I’m hoping I’m thinking about him as a distraction for something else that’s going on in my life because, seriously, am I really this pathetic?
Maybe it’s just that I miss those moments. Moments that I haven’t been able to capture with anyone else. Moments that were just ours in that space and time and I can’t take the memories for what they are. Instead, I search the world trying to recreate it. How do I justify going through that experience with him? How do I come out on the other side knowing that it was all worth it?
After we broke up, I stopped believing in a lot of things. I stopped hoping that the experience would help me grow and become a better person. Something was taken from me when he left and I can’t seem to get it back. And it’s not that he took it. I just think it’s hidden in my closet somewhere behind a pile of old clothes and no matter how many times I look, I can’t find it. Even though it’s there, clinging to the inside of a shirt sleeve. Or something…..or something.
I think one of the reasons why I’m hung up on this is because, in the end, I’m not really sure that he actually loved me, even though he said he did. That’s what makes me upset. The fact that all of my emotions were wasted. I was giving love to someone who didn’t really want it. Or didn’t know how to accept it. Did I know deep down in my heart what he was feeling? Probably. But for one brief moment, in one speck of time that probably can’t be measured, I felt loved. And it meant everything.
